


Maker save the Queen (and the King too, I guess)

by AK29



Category: Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-07
Updated: 2018-12-07
Packaged: 2019-09-13 16:07:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16895766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AK29/pseuds/AK29
Summary: A collection of Wardenstair works.





	1. Bronze

Alistair was not a big fan of politics. He really really wasn’t. He had accepted it as a necessary evil his carreer required but he definitely did not like it. So far the only upside to the torment was seeing his wife in a dress that did not so much match her eyes as underline them.

And it did wonderful things to her breasts. That too.

 

As for the rest of her, well… his wife has had one expression for what was apparently going to be the entire day, an expression that said “I will take this sword and run it through your arsehole so you can pick your teeth.”. And she was _smiling_. 

And if that wasn’t bad enough, about halfway through the speech he felt the warmth of a wondering hand running up his thigh.

Oh no.

She wouldn’t.

She  _couldn’t._

Her smile was almost unchanged, and she seemed to be listening intently to… whatever it was the idiot speaking right now was blabbering on about. Probably more definace about the whole restoring the Alienage… thing.

He was really losing his eloquence. And brain. Brain too. Not sure he ever had one.  _Oh god not the crotcg shoo shoo shooooooo!_

Too late. She gave him a tentative squeeze and he  _jumped_  nearly out of his seat.

When he opened his eyes everyone was staring at him, most rather… concerned. Even Catrióna, though the expression was comically exaggerated. “Are you alright? Is the wound acting up again? My aplogies lords and ladies, we both took grave hits during the battle and something touched by darkspawn blood does not heal as easily as one would think. Not even for us Wardens. Perhaps we can postpone the rest of this, until we are in better shape to discuss matters of great import? It has been a long day, anyway.”

It was not a question, so much as an order and they left. When Alistair was alone with her he groaned out loud. “What was  _that_?”

She shrugged.

“I was bored. I usually get destructive when I’m bored, but I’ve found a much more civilized method.”


	2. Time up

“I don’t understand. If you were going to leave anyway, why come back?!” He was furious. At the start of this all his ire had been a poor little thing, all bark and no bite, a pitiful attempt at intimidation. A dozen years later and she felt herself shrink, his voice booming when it had no right to boom, going through her every bone and fibre. 

She breathed, the only thing she could and turned around, to flee. Not from him, nor from his anger - she had her fury too and she could handle his - but from his questions. Because for the first time she felt like she could not dodge. He would get his answers.

He was king. He would get anything.

That included a new queen. A better one.

He had grabbed her arm. He’d gotten his answer in that moment.

She had kept her head inclined, keeping her hood down far enough to hide her eyes but now she glanced up, watching his face as he felt it, felt the festering darkness on the inside of her arm, the dark and hard crust that covered her pulse. And soon it would be gone entirely.

She knew not what to say, so she didn’t say anything, let him fill the void.

“I… no. _No_ , this is  _ridiculous_  you have **twenty years**  left!”

She pressed her lips together and raised her chin, forcing a smile on her lips. “Evidently not.”


End file.
